Page 24 of The Fox

“Where is his brand?” I ask, my focus not leaving the man before me. I hear my father come up behind me, his breath now hot on my neck. “There,” Papa whispers. “Just at the base of his ribcage. I’ve already broken three of the ribs, so peeling Dimtry’s mark from this stronzo will only add to his misery.”

I can see the edges of it now, the scarred skin. “You’ll take that last, Amelia.” Papa continues, and I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. “You’ll save his brand. It will be the final thing he will feel.” I can feel the whimper begging for release in my throat, but I cannot allow it out.

There is a dark corner of my soul that I must retreat to, one I’ve been crafting for the last two years. Every spare moment I’ve had, the endless tears, the never-ending sweat, the way my soul is tired inexplicable. I swallow harshly, preparing myself for what I am about to do, and remove myself from Papa’s reach. My hand shakes as I raise it, the tremors traveling down my arm. I can hear Santiago say something, Papa responding, but it doesn’t matter.

Turn it off.

Amelia Conte no longer exists. She is now a monster, crafted by bloodlines and honed by legacy.

The man before me tries to evade my blade but I collar him, my fingers barely reaching the sides of his neck. I bring the blade to his shoulder, slicing the skin there. I call for Santiago, asking him to hold the man still while I work. The bastard is dehydrated, his skin like leather despite the sharp steel in my palm. I become methodical, never allowing my eyes to leave the flesh before me. The world fades away and I feel a sick sense of conflicted comfort. It is soothing, taking control of my future regardless of the price I have now paid.

I don’t know how much time has passed but blood is now painted on my skin, sticky and overwhelming. The man hanging has passed out, his skin nothing more than strips of tissue. All that remains is his face and Dimtry’s brand. I no longer feel, my existence numb the way it was when I put my mama in the ground, rain pelting my face.

“This is what you wanted, bambina. Now, finish it.”

CHAPTER 17

Amelia---Hands

“Can we try something?”

I stare at Rhodes from my spot on the couch. He had invited me over for brunch and a movie, something that I couldn’t refuse. Brunch is my favorite and being able to snuggle with Rhodes? All the better. He’s standing in front of me, those jeans hugging him in the best way, and his white t-shirt is stretched across his body.

“Try something?” My head tilts at his question, and he has my interest peaked.

“I have an idea to help you feel more comfortable around me, with us being close.”

Setting the still-warm mug of tea on the side table, I pull the cuff of my sweatshirt over my hands, picking at the hem.“Rhodes, I’m not uncomfortable,” I whisper. He crouches in front of me, taking my hands in his and stopping me from plucking the strings dangling from the fabric.

“Amelia,” his blue eyes soft as he considers me, “I want to make sure you trust me and that we can do all the thingsyouwant. This is me, helping.”

I take a deep breath, trying to settle my instinct to fight back. Rhodes is silent, giving me the room to process the thoughts running through my head. I want him like a moth wants the flame. I need his touch in a way that is unholy. I meet his unwavering gaze and something in it reassures me.

“Okay.”

“You say stop, I stop, okay? You say stop and everything will stop.”

There is a part of me that wants to hesitate, wants to hold onto the doubt, because my past has taught me that men don’t understand the word he’s given me as a safety net. I can’t let those skeletons dance in the light and I will not deny myself this.

As I nod my head in agreement, I see one corner of his mouth tick up into a grin.

“I need words, Amelia.”

“Okay, Rhodes. If I say stop, you’ll stop.” I look up as he stands, his hands reaching for mine and he leads me down the hall.

Rhodes’ home is small but cozy. It definitely has a bachelor feel to it, but there are touches of softness here too. His hallway is dimmed, and as we reach a door at the end of the hall, my heart is racing. Surely he doesn’t mean that we’re going to have sex, does he? I’m not ready for that. My mouth goes dry before I tug on his hand, bringing him to a halt. Rhodes turns back to face me, a knowing look on his face—one without judgment, but filled with understanding instead.

“We aren’t taking our clothes off, baby. You aren’t there yet, and that is okay, I swear.”

He pushes the door open to reveal a large bed covered in down-filled blankets and the softest, most plush-looking pillows I’ve ever seen. The bed is set in a wooden frame, with a slotted headboard. I take two steps in before I hear a clicking behind me, telling me the door has closed. The tension in the air is heavy and I feel him behind me.

“So what is this idea of yours?” I murmur, my voice quivering slightly.

Rhodes walks in front of me and removes a blue satin band from his pocket.Where did that come from?My pulse races as I watch him loop it around a slat in the headboard, forming a makeshift cuff, before Rhodes turns back to me.

“You only start to panic when you can’t escape while pinned. I don’t know if it is the weight against this gorgeous body, or if it is being contained, but I want to figure it out, Amelia.” A hand brushes my cheek and I lean into the caress. “Do you want to play, baby?”

“Play?”

---